


Here For You

by Eirenei



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Viktor is naughty, reimagined 'talk' in the episode 12, skate talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8953987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eirenei/pseuds/Eirenei
Summary: AU-verse. Viktor disagreed with Yuuri’s decision to part their ways. Instead of convincing him with words, he let his skating speak for him. Because in the end, they always talked best when they were skating for each other.





	

_HERE FOR YOU_

* * *

 

 ** _Disclaimer:_** I don’t own _Yuri!!on ICE_ or _Here For You_ (by Maraaya). I just had the kind of crazy idea to combine both I in the aftermath of the 12 th episode. Blame that, not me

 ** _Summary:_** AU-verse. Viktor disagreed with Yuuri’s decision to part their ways. Instead of convincing him with words, he let his skating speak for him. Because in the end, they always talked best when they were skating for each other.

 ** _Shout Out:_** I promised somebody another fic for their viewing pleasure. You can blame the conclusion for this one. While it was good, I was also supremely dissatisfied with all that balk and talk between the two. So I let the skates speak for them. This is also the shout out for all who are fighting with depression, be that only occasionally, or day by day. There is always someone for you.

 ** _Warnings:_** AU-verse, Yuuri/Viktor, Viktor having a naughty side. Oops.

* * *

 

“Let’s end this.”

Those words echoed like thunder in Viktor’s head even three hours later after Yuuri spoke them.

He never thought that _Yuuri_ of all people would give up right before the finish, just because one - admittedly disastrous - presentation. The silver-haired coach sighed, his usually bright ocean blue eyes empty of happiness. It made something within his chest feel hollow and dark and painful, like his heart was being ripped in two. But seeing Yuuri’s eyes, filled with both despair and resolution - he really wanted to go this way - made it even more painful, because Viktor didn’t know what exactly was wrong and what was more, he didn’t know how he could fix it, fix whatever what made Yuuri fall back into the hole of the hopelessness he had been climbing out with Viktor’s help. He nosed his scarf, in an attempt to hide his nose from the cold and his eyes lowered while he was standing on the bridge, for once without his faithful shadow alongside him, both of them chatting in a mixture of Japanese and English. The silence, with the background noise of people walking by and the river rushing lazily under the bridge, it was a strange, yet poignant counterpoint, made even more jarring with Viktor’s ever-darkening mood.

Viktor inhaled again, the scarf’s spicy scent reminding him of Yuuri – right, he had lent him the scarf in the last practice in order of Yuuri not getting a cold, and that just made his mood worse than before, if that was even possible.

He shouldn’t have listened to Yuuri begging him to go back to Japan to check on Makkachin. Then, this entire disaster would’ve been averted. He should have been more supportive, too – he winced when he thought of his little threat about quitting as Yuuri’s coach if Yuuri didn’t shape up. Yakov had made coaching seem effortless – Viktor didn’t need much of his coaching, except in technical aspects and even then, it was kind of a toss-up if he heeded Yakov’s barks aimed his way, much to the old coach’s frustrated irritation. When Yuuri touched that little spot on his head, Viktor felt both inadequate and relieved that Yuuri was made out of sterner stuff than Viktor, and much to Viktor’s shame, Yuuri was more of a coach in that moment than Viktor ever was or could be. After the kiss – really, he couldn’t help himself, Yuuri had been just _amazing_ and that quadruple toe loop at the end - ! Viktor’s heart almost couldn’t take it, Yuuri had surprised him again and - !

Viktor’s involuntary smile drooped when his mind returned to this day’s disaster. It wasn’t - not really, but Yuuri had been rattled out enough to almost flub the entire thing, except he didn’t, and he didn’t really believe Viktor that it was alright.

It was like Yuuri though that he wasn’t good enough to be coached if he didn’t stand on the podium. Viktor froze at the thought.

…he wasn’t good enough…if he didn’t stand on the podium….

_Of course._

Viktor mouthed out an expletive as his right hand fell on the stone fence of the bridge with a muffled thud, startling some passerby’s, blue eyes narrowing dangerously he finally comprehended the problem..

Of course. He should have expected that, Yuuri wasn’t used to the pressure of being a winner, the weight of the spectators’ expectation on his shoulders – and with his announcement that he would snag gold at Grand Prix, the pressure tripled or even quadrupled, and with Yuuri’s nature of being shy and too self-judging, this was a recipe for disaster.

This was not even mentioning the Last Year Banquet’s Disaster and Viktor’s own tentative relationship with the younger skater.

_‘Let’s end this.’_

Only three words, but they had shattered Viktor’s rose-colored world that Yuuri had unintentionally built in a single night at that banquet.

That night, Viktor had been given a three gifts - laughter, life and love, all three of which he lacked in his life. While others thought that Viktor, as a Living Legend, had it all - money, power, influence, and lived a life of dreams of many, it wasn’t true.

It was a life, consisting out of chasing after inspiration, after something that would amaze the crowd one more time, then training, winning and mingling with the so-called elite just because he happened to be very successful in what he loved to do.

But through the years, his love slowly became a chore. Each jump and each steeping sequence he aimed to dazzle people with was a tiny feather, made out of stone, and his wings, however magnificent they were in the eyes of ordinary people, began weighing him down with their own perfection.

And then, there was Yuuri. Viktor wouldn’t have taken a second glance at the man if it weren’t for that banquet, and while Yuuri thought the entire night then a disaster of epic proportions, for Viktor, it had been a revelation.

It cracked those stone wings he had been enshrouded in, and shown him a new path. Not the end he so feared, but a beginning, even if it had been hidden underneath the slur of a drunk skater who had caused scandal, amusement and entertainment at the otherwise boring party.

The same skater who had skated his routine _Stay Close To Me_. He couldn’t say it was heart rending, but it was like a mirror to himself, only younger, more innocent and filled with a different kind of loss. He thanked God every day that the triplets leaked it on the internet, and thus saving him from being swept in the apathy and depression of not only lacking inspiration, but being on a decline of his skating career, no matter the fact he may have been the most successful skater in history.

The Yuuri he had met in Hasetsu, was a different, more shy and introverted version, but a little less depressed and with a small glint of determination budding underneath the insecurity that enshrouded the younger shatter like an invisible cloak of damnation trying him drown in the despair of mediocrity and shattered dreams.

_“I want Viktor to be just Viktor.”_

Nothing else. Nothing less, nothing more. Yuuri said he wanted him, just as he was. Viktor felt both bereft and relieved with those words, not being tied to anything concrete as father, sibling, friend or even lover, but at the same time condemned to find the version that would represent ‘Viktor’ to Yuuri the best.

_“I want… I want to eat katsudon with Viktor!”_

Such a simple wish. Not having Viktor as a coach, but just a simple celebration between the two and an admittedly delicious dish. Viktor had lost, and Yuuri didn’t even know it.

_“Look only at me.”_

Once again, simple words. As if Viktor managed to do anything else when Yuuri was on the ice.

 _“Just believe in me!”_ A scream, a plea, but salvation and damnation, causing Viktor to lose himself, once again, in those brown eyes he got to know so intimately in those months.

 _“Go to Makkachin.”_ And those eyes, pained, but resolute when Yuuri nudged to go back to Japan, back to his beloved Makkachin.

 _“Be my coach until I retire.”_ An unvoiced marriage proposal, at least in Viktor’s mind, because if that meant he could be with Yuuri, Viktor wished Yuuri would never retire, so that they could have all the time in the world to be together - to smile, laugh, cry, row and just _be._

The single moment, when Yuuri placed a simple ring on his finger, it was a promise…

… a promise that was about to be broken because of Yuuri’s own demons of fear and insecurity, caused by Viktor and his thoughtless words that the two of them were engaged and about to be married after Yuuri won Grand Prix. Viktor grimaced. Talk about him being insensitive moron, but honestly, he had faith in Yuuri making his words come true. But… He frowned.

Was he mistaken? Had he misread Yuuri’s words, his gestures, his _everything?_

Viktor shook his head forcefully.

No. He didn’t. He couldn’t accept that, not after everything that happened between them.

This happiness he felt the last months… surely, this wasn’t fake.

Yuuri may have thought that ending this - whatever it was between them was the best course of action for Viktor, but he didn’t count another person in his little equation of absolving Viktor of the would-be disaster if ( _when,_ in Yuuri’s stress-addled mind,) he wouldn’t land the gold.

And that person was Viktor himself.

If Yuuri thought he knew Viktor, then he was sorely mistaken.

Viktor fumed. Yuuri may have given up on himself - on _them_ \- but Viktor would not, not when he experienced just how _good_ they were together. How good they _could_ be, if only they could weather this entire mess with Grand Prix. Viktor was inclined to hate the entire affair, with how much it negatively affected Yuuri, but it was also the catalyst that enabled him to meet this amazing person he now wished to be with the rest of his life -  

A stray melody floated to Viktor’s ears, the muffled words slowly registering in his mind, playing the montage of his moments with Yuuri and simultaneously, new foot sequences unfurled in his head, soft, fragile, but full of fire and ice and life –

His spine stiffening, Viktor whirled around and strode to the source of the melody, his mind already planning what to do next.

“Hey. What is the name of this song?”

* * *

 

Someone harshly shook his shoulder, jarring him out of his exhausted sleep and causing him to blink blearily.

“Yuuri!”  Yuuri cringed, wanting to cover his head with the blanket, hiding from Viktor. Because surely, Viktor was now angry with him and really he had all the rights to be and -

-only for the hand to be placed on his shoulder and firmly shaking him again.

“Yuuri. Get up.” Viktor’s no-nonsense voice caused Yuuri’s spine to stiffen automatically. It was rare that Viktor was serious, and Yuuri didn’t want to be on the receiving end of whatever prompted Viktor being so serious.  Viktor was known to be happy-go-lucky, a flirt and a human goldfish, memory-wise when it concerned promises, but there was a reason nobody wanted to anger him.

“V-Viktor?” He slurred out, blindly reaching for his glasses, only for them to be passed to him by Viktor. Slowly placing them on his nose, Yuuri cautiously looked up at his soon-to-be-ex-coach. Viktor was bundled in his coat, his hair disheveled and blue eyes unusually serious, with a strange gleam that made Yuuri involuntarily shudder. Then, he looked at the clock, and nearly got a heart attack. Three in the morning – what was Viktor even thinking!?

“Get up. I want to show you something. Dress warm. ”

Oh, if that didn’t sound ominous, then Yuuri didn’t know what should. Giving Viktor a timid nod, he shuffled out of the bed and began to search for appropriate clothes.

* * *

 

Much to Yuuri’s surprise, they reached the dome where the final competition would be held in… Yuuri winced … six hours. What was Viktor even thinking, leading him there?

“Get in.” Viktor ushered him to the side entrance. Yuuri blanched. “VI-Viktor! The entire area is under surveillance, what - ?” He babbled as he tried to resist.

Of course, resistance was futile. “I pulled some strings for us to allow us to be let in.” Viktor was short and to the point, still so focused it reminded Yuuri of one of those finely edged _katanas_ of his home land. Still, he couldn’t help but cringe with guilt for participating in this… whatever it was. Because entering the dome before the competition was a sure fire offense, as far Yuuri knew.

“Go to the rink.” Viktor was still short-spoken, but he squeezed Yuuri’s shoulder reassuringly, and Yuuri swallowed. If Viktor said so, then maybe it was alright.

“But what about you - ?” He tried to ask his strange companion, only to find out that Viktor already vanished in the bowels of the building, leaving him alone. Shaking with exasperation and a small amount of both concerned fondness, Yuuri sighed.

Just what was Viktor up to this time?

* * *

 

The rink looked scarily big and yet strangely intimate in the half-light emitted from the feeble lightning. It almost likened to a moonlight, and Yuuri almost wanted to grab his skates and just slide over the smooth surface, forgetting everything but the bliss of blades slicing the frozen water, giving him wings, if only for the briefest moments.

He sneezed, the tiny sound echoing across the space. Yuuri shivered. It was kind of hard to believe that in just a short time, this entire place would transform from its tranquility to the one with harsh lightning, loud music and people watching the six skaters giving their all in their effort to reach for the ever elusive perfection on ice.

His ears caught a familiar sound of skates grinding across the iced planes, snapping his attention to the form skating toward him. And his eyes bulged out with horror.

It was Viktor!

Viktor, clad in black – black trousers, black short-sleeved shirt and black skates, with black gloves. He couldn’t help but notice how the shirt clung to the well-defined planes of Viktor’s upper body – it was as if Viktor had been practicing before he came  to get Yuuri and _gods_ , now they were in a deep shit, because surely, someone would find out that Viktor had dared to use the dome for his personal skating ground and both he and Yuuri would be booted out of the competition and the _shame_ –

 _“Yuuri!”_ Viktor’s voice cut Yuuri’s frantic thoughts like a blade, causing Yuuri to blink at his... what? Coach?

No. This person in front of him, this wasn’t his coach. This was something different, not ethereal but something – better yet, _someone,_ who was preparing for the fight of his life.

Viktor’s eyes gleamed at him, not the softly affectionate, but determined and honest with a hint of something Yuuri didn’t dare to interpret in case he was mistaken. Because this elusive feeling wasn’t for Yuuri – not now, not when he had hurt Viktor so harshly.

“Vi-Viktor?” He ventured out hesitantly, feeling his cheeks blush at Viktor’s intense gaze at his person. “What are we doing here?”

“Because I want to show you something.” Viktor’s reply was quick and firm as he skated toward him, stopping in front of Yuuri, all black and silver and emitting the heat that made Yuuri want to both lean toward him and back away.  But he hadn’t done either. Viktor’s eyes were the ones that made him stay where he was, almost blazing in their intensity.

“Show me – “ Yuuri finally connected the dots. _‘Don’t tell me he is going to – ‘_

Viktor gave him a firm nod as he pushed himself off, skating backward to the middle of the rink.

Yuuri’s eyes followed him, as if hypnotized by his motion, as simple as it was. But in following Viktor movements, Yuuri noticed something else.

The iced surface was crisscrossed in elegant lines, silver and pale blue glinting in the feeble light, all of them vying across the white plane, as if someone was skating here, precise, meticulous and Yuuri could almost tell the story enshrined in them. Viktor got into the pose, all sharp lines, silver and black and those blazing eyes half-lidded in the darkness, the curve of his throat starkly pale against the background, the entire scene couldn’t be amiss in some noir movie.

Yuuri, however, felt himself blanch, the ice shooting through his veins followed by the fire and he barely held himself up because gods –

His horrified inner shrieks were interrupted by the melody sluicing out of the loudspeakers.

_When you’re down, down low  
And there’s no place you can go_

The female’s voice was both sharp, almost overshadowing the melody yet somehow blending with it, strong and mellow, like a good sake in the evening – -and the melody was pearls slowly floating down into the depth of the sea, their soft light illuminating the watery depths and he watched, fascinated, how Viktor moved, slowly, like he was also one of those pearls, but infinitely more precious -

_When you’re down, down, love  
You know that I am here for you_

Yuuri couldn’t help but startle at the words.

_Love?_

Was Viktor really thinking of him like that?

He wasn’t worthy of it, because he hurt Viktor so badly, with his thoughtless actions, but this ephemeral dream – he wanted to live it, if only for a moment before he returned back to his inevitable nightmares. Viktor’s soft movements stopped, and those blue eyes blazed at him as the song stopped and Yuuri thought, this was it -

Only for the drums’s sharp noise to interrupt the lull, and it reminded Yuuri of ice crystals, of Viktor in that androgynous black costume, long silver hair and with a mysterious smile on his lips, only to be startled again by the rhythm picking up and Viktor moved, sharp and sure and no, this wasn’t ice, but fire and Yuuri was half afraid that the cold surface behind would catch a fire merely by being in contact with Viktor’s skates.

 _You came into my life when I was broken_  
_You heated up my heart when it was frozen_  
_And we got the flow, now it’s up we go_

The delicate sequence, so similar to one in _Eros_ , but somehow intertwining _Agape_ and _Stay Close To Me_ \- Yuuri’s mind was becoming dizzy when he tried to catalogue all off the little details interwoven into the story Viktor was right now weaving all over ice.  

Viktor didn’t need costume, didn’t need long hair, didn’t need _anything_ , because in this sole moment he was the only one reflecting in Yuuri’s eyes, his body moving sinuously, forcefully, determinedly as he launched into the salchow –

It was like he was a fireball, double toe loop, ina bauer, and then, he bowed out if it, intermixing both jumps and footwork like garlands of light, blazing across the ice, and Yuuri’s heart just about stopped when he paused, those blazing blue eyes looking at him – not with the gentleness, but with fire – not to seduce but with something way deeper.

Did… Did Yuuri cause Viktor to skate like this?

Yuuri, who had been such a failure - was a failure, and would be failure tomorrow – no, today – on the ice once again, shaming his coach and his flighty choice of choosing him over the sure fire way of getting yet another medal?

This was surely wrong.

But Yuuri’s heart pounded in the rhythm of the melody weaving around them, around him and Viktor like some kind of an exotically, if a little bit roughly and yet silkily soft woven shawl of sounds,  piano and drums getting an accompaniments in the violin, and it was like pears being suspended in the darkness of despair, and then, slowly, they began to lift –

Then, the melody became more intimate, a little bit higher, a little bit softer before it lowered, the violin bowing out gracefully, causing Yuuri almost choke at the words Victor was dancing on the ice -  
  
_And now that it’s your turn you wanna hide it_

Why? _Why?_ This song –

Yuuri swallowed, and he would have bolted, but he was chained right here and now, rooted more surely than even the strongest chain could manage, bit what held him there was just a fragile melody, like lace, reminding him of his failures, of all his attempts to be strong, and why, why, why weren’t they _enough?_

Because Yuuri himself wasn’t enough?

But Viktor - Viktor saw through him.

Why was he mocking him so cruelly, showing him all the splendor of what he could have been if he was just a little less of a loser, a little bit braver, a little more outspoken, with his heart different than his glass-made one?

_A million times already you’ve denied it_

He remembered Viktor tugging him out of his self-imposed funk, his little jabs, his cheerful offer of being Yuuri’s anything if Yuuri would only give him half the chance, but Yuuri, the coward he was, said the wanted Viktor to be just Viktor and that was the lamest thing ever and yes, Yuuri wanted to hide his failure-ridden self from the world.

Away from Yuri’s taunts of him being a crybaby.

Away from being a disappointment to his parents, to his people, to Japan as a whole.

Away from the hurt of losing his beloved Vicchan and the blisteringly real knowledge that he was a complete and utter failure despite having a Viktor Nikiforov for his coach.

Yet, Viktor danced, his movements sure and full of intent, and it was like he was trying to tell Yuuri something.

No. This was just Viktor being kind, one more time.

Yuuri sunk back into himself, holding back the tears.

He would watch Viktor one last time.

He at least owed him that.

_You don’t have to fear, you don’t have to fight_

Not having to fight was a pipe dream. Yuuri had fought the battle with his demons every day, be that his shyness, being inadequate, not being articulate of what he wanted, because surely, he wasn’t important enough, because he was a failure already, no matter the accomplishments -

It would be nice not to, even Yuuri admitted it, and he thanked heavens that he had such amazing people to hold him up, and he relayed when Victor’s movements became softer, just a little bit –

The violin crashed forward, insistent, full of hope, a counterpoint to the sharp bark of the drums, like a tiny flicker of hope amidst the darkness, the high tones almost prodding the silver-haired skater into the next sequence, causing him to strain and gods, how was Viktor _doing_ that, almost flying over the ice –

 _When you’re down, down low_  
_Sinking in the undertow_  
_When you’re down, down low_  
_You know that I am here for you_

If Yuuri could’ve believed those words, that beautiful, dazzling story Viktor was currently skating into ice, his heart lifting up because even in the depths of the despair, he somehow dared to hope, that he was worth something, if Viktor wanted to be with him.

Viktor was with him.

Always has been.

Since that first sight when he saw him, long hair, quirky little smile and that costume, bewitching the world with his talents so easily like dawn stole over the surface in the morning, before fanning out into the blazing glory of the day.

His inspiration. The light he looked toward to, despite the pain, despite the taunts, despite the cold and being cripplingly awkward with dealing with other people, all in the order to once – just once - skate on the same ice as his idol.

But this dream crashed and burned magnificently.

Viktor hadn’t given up though. He crashed into Yuuri’s life like a comet, came like that unusual snowstorm, as if it were his cloak, announcing his dominion over the iced planes of water he danced on so dazzlingly bright, surprising people, and must of all surprising Yuuri -

The violin sneaked into the front again, the trembling melody straining against the darker and harsher one of the drums and more mellow of a piano below it, until it somehow came into the front, and Viktor’s hair was glistening in the half-darkness, like a tiny part of some kind of starlight, dancing on ice just for Yuuri

 _Viktor._ His light.

 _‘Cause I know, know baby_  
_All the hurt you never show_  
_When you’re down, down low_  
_You gotta let me heal your aching soul_

Double lutz, the triple loop and how was Viktor even _doing_ those things?

But Viktor was right.

Viktor knew him.

Viktor had been here, both for his triumphs, flumps, and also when he spoke those disastrous words about resigning as Yuuri’s coach if Yuuri won’t reach ahead enough to grab the podium.

Viktor – silly, flamboyant, goldfish-minded about promises, the one who could drink Miyako under the table without any problems, and _that_ was an achievement, Viktor who remembered enough to give a failure like him a chance, even after that disaster of a banquet, Viktor who announced that he was engaged to _Yuuri_ of all people and gods, Yuuri wanted to hide when he but remembered that one in the barest hints, Viktor who was evil enough to mess with both Yuris with giving them completely opposite themes, Viktor, who loved Makkachin and was so free with his affection and feelings, yet at the same time not, Viktor as a person with his own failures, who tried so hard for Yuuri’s sake, awkwardly, but trying nonetheless –

The violin came back, slipping into the intermezzo, quirky, like Viktor, like his larger-than-life persona Yuuri wouldn’t know what to do without once they parted ways, drums in the background a soft counterpoint, a soft purr of some great beast, the staccato an echo of Viktor’s own footwork on the ice as his body twisted into a bow before preparing for another jump.

The  music softened, from the sharp sparks to a warm glow, as the rhythm changed, and Yuuri winced a little - this would be nightmare of a footwork, but Viktor took the change like he was anticipating it, was born for it and made it his own.

 _You came into my life when I was broken_  
_You heated up my heart when it was frozen_  
_And we got the flow, now it’s up we go_

He had never seen Viktor skate so passionately. Of course, Viktor always radiated his love of ice-skating when he was doing his routines, but this one - Yuuri would bet his lifetime supply of _katsudon_ that if the judges would’ve seen _this_ on the ice, Viktor’s score would effortlessly soar in four hundreds, if not more, shattering all the records ever existing.

This was Viktor skating like possessed, Viktor who was staking his life on something and Viktor who was holding onto something, and not letting it go.

And it was just Yuuri’s luck that this time, Viktor’s focus was him.

The tiny violin variations scrabbled in, soft and jagged at the same time, the music deepening, like a wave before cresting on the beach, reminding Yuuri of the day when they had been in Hasetsu, overlooking the sea and Viktor asking him that special question.

_‘Okay.’_

He remembered Viktor’s scent when he dared to embrace him, before launching into Eros for the first time at the exhibition the three little devils and his coach cobbled up, both scared and excited and determined and hoping against hope that he would, for once, _win._

Viktor’s dumbfounded face when he announced that his passion was _katsudon,_ but not saying anything about it, despite being truly strangest motivation to comprehend Eros.

Viktor’s arm around his waist on the podium, when he won, his hugs, his laughter, the warmth on his side, felt even in the heat of the _onsen_ waters.

  
_‘Cause you released my pain, now let me take it_  
_Just leave it at the door and we can make it_  
_You don’t have to hide, I am by your side_

This feeling - if Viktor was by his side…

…then everything was possible.

Yuuri didn’t know why. What had he done to earn this, whether was this personal heaven or hell, but he knew, first, or second, or millionth time, if Viktor offered him his hand, he would follow him anywhere.

The sight blurred, prompting him to hastily wipe his eyes, and his heart hurt, and he was both glad and sad, and this was also the reason to let Viktor go, because if people saw him skate like this, surely they would –

The small crystals of ice skidded out of Victor’s skates, a bit of ice-made starlight.

The piano slid in, a well-slotted cog, bereft of violin and drums, but so very _lonely_ and Yuuri’s heart clenched.

 _Everybody else sees in black and white_  
_You look at wrong and make it right_  
_Can’t I open your eyes?_

Viktor’s eyes at the moment when he looked at Yuuri - they were so vulnerable, and Viktor looked like he was going to cry, causing Yuuri to panic wanting to scramble on the ice to gather this hot mess in his arms and hug it until he didn’t have any strength to hug him with, and the music stopped as if heeding Yuuri’s impulse.

 Yuuri reached for the door, only to flinch back when the song picked up again, as if admonishing him for his want to touch Viktor, the drums now holding an echo of threatening growl instead of purr, and Viktor’s footing became looser, more free, launching him into a triple toe loop and then salchow before he threw himself into the footwork even Yuuri himself wouldn’t be ashamed of, for all his specialty in this field.  
  
_When you’re down, down low_  
_Sinking in the undertow_  
_When you’re down, down low_  
_You know that I am here for you_

_‘Believe me. Why aren’t you believing me? Why don’t you have faith in me like I do in you?’_

_‘I am here for you. ‘_

_‘I am here to stay.’_

_‘With you.’_

_‘Why are you trying to make me go away?’_

_‘What can I do, to stay with you?’_

Those words - Yuuri could hear them as clear as if Viktor himself was here, speaking them into his face. For all of its fire…

  
_‘Cause I know, know baby_  
_All the hurt you never show_

…there was loneliness, a plea in this wild, almost desperate dance on the ice, and then the music halted once again, and it was like Viktor was screaming for him to hold the rope he was offering him to pull Yuuri out of the wild typhoon-maddened sea in which he was drowning _._

_When you’re down, down low  
You gotta let me heal your aching soul_

Why was that, that despite all of the screams to let himself be saved, he was hearing only Viktor’s?

The drums and piano played out the background, of the darkened sky, the rain beating harshly against the water’s surfaces, the waves dancing around, wet, lethal jaws of certain death, and it was only the question of time when Yuuri would let himself go, to give up enough to concede the fight.

And among all that, Viktor, standing on a small, modest raft, his silver hair wet, plastered to his forehead and his clothes clinging to his body, holding a rope in his hand when he was balancing on the treacherously wet surface, calling out, calling for _Yuuri,_ those unusually colored eyes wide and desperate and willing to shoulder the burden that was Yuuri Katsuki.

 _‘Cause I know, know baby_  
_All the hurt you never show_  
_When you’re down, down low_  
_You gotta let me heal your aching soul_

The song reached crescendo, desperate, now outright _begging,_ and Viktor’s movements became jagged, not even giving out the illusion of sharpness, as if he had exhausted himself with pounding on the thorn-filled doors that shut Yuuri from the rest of the world, from the rest of Viktor.

The violin panned out, drums quietly followed it, slinking away like kicked puppy, looking back every once in a while, while piano hesitantly, wearily asked the question, the offer, the pledge, once again.

 _When you’re down, down low_  
_Sinking in the undertow_  
_When you’re down, down low_  
_You know that I am here for you_

The singer’s confident, soft words were in a direct counterpoint with Viktor’s defeated form kneeling on the ice.

Tearing the rink door open, Yuuri stumbled to him, his eyes overflowing with tears and he was sorry, sorry, so, so sorry. He didn’t even see Viktor anymore, he saw only the blob of silver and black half-enshrouded in the shadows, and half in light.

He opened his mouth, to say something, but the words couldn’t – come out of his mouth.

The only thing between them, aside cold and distance and air was the sound of Victor’s panting. Viktor was practically gasping for air, and Yuuri was both humbled and awed -  he hadn’t known that Viktor could skate like that –

“Do you understand, Yuuri? Please, tell me you understand.” Viktor’s voice was strained, but he lifted his bowed head, to look at Yuuri, as if awaiting his judgement and subsequent execution.

“I – “ Yuuri choked. “You - ”

Both of them were a mess. Both physically and emotionally. Three minutes of Viktor’s battering against Yuuri’s defenses, dancing the harshest skate he ever danced, desperate to call the one who stole his heart back to his side. And all he seemed to achieve, was to break Yuuri’s heart once again, with how much the younger skater was crying.

Viktor’s heart fell. “Yuuri. _Please.”_

“You skated beautifully.” Yuuri finally managed to get out, sniffling, but still he didn’t dare to come closer, as if afraid to be burned by Viktor’s blaze. But right now, Viktor felt hollow, like he had given out everything he had and more. He knew that his body wouldn’t be forgiving him tomorrow, what with his insane skating, but he had to, he just had to, because how else he could’ve gone through Yuuri if not with skating?

For them, skating was their secret language, the one thing that led Yuuri on the path of being an ice skater, to follow Viktor, and the same thing that prompted Viktor to follow a relatively unknown skater back to Hasetsu and convince him to give the sport he so loved another chance. And if heavens were merciful, this would be the thing to get them back together.

He laughed out a broken laugh.

“Would you believe I’ve thought it up only in six hours?”

He saw Yuuri’s eyes widen with shock. _“S-six hours!?”_ Yuuri squeaked, his voice high. “Viktor, you - !”

That would mean –

 “Are you insane!” It burst out of him without his consent, and Viktor flinched. “I – I’m not worth it!” That was a wrong thing to say, as Viktor’s head snapped up, and he glared at Yuuri, causing the Japanese slater to step back at the intensity of the glare.

 _“But you are!”_ Viktor barked out, a small bit of that fire back in his life. “I don’t know what were you thinking, making decisions for me, of all people, but Yuuri, why didn’t you ask me!?”

“A-Ask you?” Yuuri parroted, bewildered, his eyes huge behind those hideous glasses of his. How Viktor had ever fallen in love with that dork, he would never know. Yuuri was exasperating, cute, adorable ball of nerves with a dash of sexiness thrown in along with a dollop of steel spine and with a generous helping of empathy, but right now, Viktor wished Yuuri would be a little less empathetic to what perceived were Viktor’s wishes and a lot more selfish when it concerned their relationship.

“Yes, ask me!” Viktor replied as he reached forward, snatching Yuuri’s ring-wearing hand. “And believe me.” He ended softly. “Have I ever given you any sign that I was in any way dissatisfied with your skating or yourself as a person?”

Seeing Yuuri cringe and open his mouth, Viktor’s mind flashed to that disastrous confrontation when he threatened to resign as Yuuri’s coach. “Aside from that mess in China.” He hurriedly added, blushing as Yuuri choked out a strange chuckle.

“N-no- You didn’t.” Those brown, almost dark eyes glittered wetly, and Viktor’s heart jumped when the hand he held in his own shyly squeezed back. “But right now, you skated…” Yuuri paused, licking his lips as if in a daze, and for a moment, Viktor was both proud of his abilities and jealous how they took Yuuri’s attention from him so easily.

“And what if I say I don’t want to end this?” Viktor’s voice trembled when he raised their hands, drawing Yuuri’s eyes to it, and causing the younger man to blush.

“Y-You don’t have to.” Yuuri’s mumble was almost more of a blurb of sounds than coherent sentence. “But the world deserves – “

“The world can deserve all it wants.” Viktor almost growled back at him. “What _I want_ is more important, and what I want _right this moment,_ is to be with you, our careers in skating notwithstanding.” His eyes softened at the Yuuri’s deer-in-a headlight look he sported at Viktor’s declaration. “I am sorry to put you under such a pressure, demanding of you to get gold medal before we marry.”

Yuuri made a funny sound in the back of his throat. “Y-You are _still_ on this!?” He squawked, his eyes adorably wide behind those hideous lenses. “Of course.” Viktor was relentless. It was now or never. His own ocean blue eyes softened with affection. “Don’t misunderstand me. I would love to be with you even if you don’t get the gold, but I do have faith in you. When you move, your body radiates music, and I wish the world to see this, like I do.”

“B-But I am – “ Yuuri tried once again, and his eyes were surely irritated by air, considering they were watering so much.

“You’re Katsuki Yuuri. And hopefully, _my_ Yuuri.” Viktor shot him an abashed smile. “Just like I am your Viktor.” He watched those eyes widen and then soften with affection, their light finally restored and more beautiful than ever before.

In that moment, Viktor Nikiforov, the five time figure skating champion, the Living Legend of Russia and one pain in the ass of a certain Russian kitty fell in love with this amazing person he came to know by a chance, all over again.

Yuuri fell in his arms, crying and laughing and generally being a beautiful mess Viktor wouldn’t mind to stay with for the rest of his life.

* * *

 

The championship was postponed for half an hour because it appeared that someone had successfully broke into the building and vandalized the ice surface.

Yuuri was scandalized.

Viktor was unrepentantly smug.

“But you said you pulled the strings for us to be let in!” He whisper-yelled at Viktor, only for his fiancé and maybe-coach in the future sending him a playful smile.

“It was love, Yuuri. Because, as you well know, love wins.”

(He would never, _ever_ tell Yuuri of his lock-picking skills. Phichit, as his co-conspirator and person to mess with security and music system was sworn to silence anyway.)

(When they tied the knot, Yuuri almost got an heart attack when he had been gifted a small blue and purple bound photo album with the photos from that morning, along with the CD of Viktor skating to that song from an anonymous source.)

* * *

 

**_ /The End/ _ **


End file.
